Wolves At The Door
by Hydriatus
Summary: A planeswalker's first battle in Innistrad.


_A/N: So this is my first Magic the Gathering fic. Innistrad and OC. Let's go!_

* * *

**Wolves At The Door**

The village of Hamelin was quiet. It was not the quiet of a peaceful community at worship. Nor was it the quiet of exhaustion after a long day toiling in the fields. No, this was a quiet of fear. The silence before the storm. Actually, more a deep breath before a plunge, he supposed would be more accurate.

Valentyn could feel it in the air. The tingle of sheer anticipation, of fear. The people of the village were afraid. So afraid. Of what? Well in this place, any number of things really. He'd already stumbled across a few cocky vampires and some shambling zombies. Which meant this was going to be one of those planes – suspicion and hatred at each turn.

Great. Just what he needed.

He was tired. He was hungry. He'd been walking ALL day. And now that he had finally found a beacon of civilization, it looked more ready to fill him with arrows than welcome him in. Honestly. Paranoid bumpkins. No sense of hospitality! Then again, THAT was hardly new. It seemed like EVERYONE in the Multiverse was a paranoid, humorless highlander who took everything personally.

So much for the "joy of exploration", as the Zendikarians put it. How could you expand your horizons and meet new people if all you encountered everywhere you went was hostility? This wasn't what he had been led to expect from being a planeswalker. Urgh...that's it. First thing in the morning, he was 'walking away from this plane. Nothing but trouble and nothing of value to him. Vampires, geists, zombies? No thanks! They could at least have had some dragons!

Shaking his head, the planeswalker made his way towards the stone walls of the village. Surprising actually, that such a small settlement was so fortified. It spoke of the dangers that lurked in the wilderness. There were wide plains surrounding the village, allowing the sentries on the walls and in the towers to easily spot anyone approaching. Like him. He could feel eyes on him as he strode up to the great gates that would lead into the village. The locals were probably aiming at him with their little bows already.

Urgh. He hoped they didn't shoot. That wouldn't end well for anyone. And then he would have to make an example out of them for their stupidity. Still, they were but mere people. And from what he had seen, that pretty much put them at the bottom of the food chain in this realm. Which made their actions understandable on some level. He could relate with a daily struggle to survive, defiant of the hand fate had dealt you. These were people defending their homes, because no one else would.

Many villages in Vlastimir had been the same, in the end. The Luthens had overrun them anyway. Nothing could stop the Legion. Nothing native to that plane at least. Valentyn felt his lips quirk into a brief smile. Soon. Soon he would return triumphant to his homeland. And with fire and sword, he would drive the Luthen back south from whence they came. Soon. Not yet. He didn't have the power yet. He needed to be more, so much more before he could return.

He approached the gates and raised his fist, politely knocking three times and waiting. He could hear figures moving up above, see the pools of light of their torches moving to and fro as they tried to get a better look at him. Just because the locals didn't know the rules of hospitality did not mean he could just disregard them. There was a process to be followed. Be polite. Be accommodating. If someone's trying to screw you over, screw them over right back. Do not escalate.

…

Alright, there was more to it than that, but those were the most important points. And besides, the villagers of Hamelin should be happy he was even bothering with that much. He may not have been a power unto himself, but he still could wipe them from the face of this plane with a bit of time. But then he'd just have to walk FURTHER until he found the NEXT village. And walking when he should've been sleeping did NOTHING to improve his mood.

Temper, temper. The planeswalker took a deep breath and ran a hair through his dirty blond hair, grimacing at the oily sensation it left on his hand. Right, been a few days since he'd had a bath. He wiped his hand on his coat when there was a sound like a hatch unlocking and a small slide was pulled back on the door, revealing the eyes of someone on the other side.

"B-begone stranger! We have no room for the hermits of the wilds!" he declared with a quavering voice. "If you seek to pray to Avacyn, then make do with the roadside shrines!"

The Vlastimiran just cocked an eyebrow at that. So he hardly looked civilized, but traveling on foot for a few days does that to you. He hadn't even had a good night's sleep yet since arriving in…in…what the blazes was this plane called anyway? Bah, he'd interrogate another 'walker about it sometime. It was unimportant now.

"I am no hermit. Merely a traveler. Under the laws of hospitality I request sanctuary," he stated calmly. When dealing with fearful folks, make sure to be confident, calm and nonthreatening, he remembered. Well at least his Academy training was proving useful for once. Infantry tactics were pointless in most of the scraps he had wound up in, but those diplomacy studies may yet find some use at this rate.

The man on the other side of the gate laughed nervously. "Sanctuary is only for humans, not for werewolves nor blood drinkers!" he declared.

"Do I LOOK like a werewolf or blood-drinker to you?!" Valentyn snapped, his patience fraying. "I've been walking for two days now. I'm hungry, thirsty, and dirty. I'm also very good with magic so open this gate before I flip a coin to decide whether to keep talking to you or just blow this entire gatehouse in!" the younger male snarled before taking a deep breath and reining in his annoyance. The idiots of this village weren't to blame for his situation. No. But they were to blame for ANNOYING HIM FURTHER.

The man at the hatch recoiled slightly before glancing him over, then turning to someone else behind the door and whispering. Good to see that intimidation was a universal language. However, the prospect of a warm bed and meal was too tempting to pass up.

"Getting the coin now," Valentyn warned, reaching into a pouch and pulling out a gold piece, holding it up to show the sentry who had turned back to see what he was talking about. "Heads, we talk. Tails...I make myself at home," the planeswalker stated simple with a smile, flicking the coin into the air.

"Wait! WAIT!" the sentry shouted in a panic as Valentyn caught the coin and slammed it onto the back of his palm, but did not reveal it. Instead, he looked at the guard with a tilt of his head to signify his attention. Damn, but he wanted to smile. It always felt good to have something go just as you had predicted. Then again, it also felt good to vent after things go wrong. "S-show us your teeth."

Wait what? "My teeth?" Valentyn echoed, raising an eyebrow in response to the sentry's request. Alright, that surprised him. For that alone, Valentyn would humor the man. With a shrug, he stepped up to the gate and pulled his lip up to reveal his teeth, feeling somewhat foolish. It was like he was a horse being inspected before an auction.

The sentry peered at him earnestly before nodding "No fangs! Alright open up!" he called, and the sound of a heavy bar being moved became audible. "He ain't no blood-drinker!"

Valentyn smiled in relief as pocketed the coin as the doors into the village groaned open just enough to let him slip inside. "Ah, thank ye kindly-" he said before pausing, being confronted by a wall of...farming implements it looked like. The planeswalker's eyes narrowed, his fist clenching. "Really?"

"You could be a cleric or follower of those beasts sent to open our gates when the time comes!" a particularly brave soul shouts from somewhere in the second rank of the mass of improvised weapons facing Valentyn. Was that a broom? These people really were desperate. Still, he was now their guest so he couldn't just burn them a little to get them to back off. Clamping down tightly on his temper (even if he could burn this place to the ground, he had to sleep sometime. And sleeping in the wilderness here without someone to keep watch seemed like a death sentence. Ah, so much like Zendikar…

"Look, I just want a warm meal, a bath and a bed for the night. Feel free to lock me in a room with those things and stand guard all night," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. The farmers and craftsmen who made up the motley militia glanced at one another. Oh right, they wouldn't be welcoming…urgh, uncultured fools. "I can pay," Valentyn added, growing tired of the negotiations already.

"Well, he does have coin…" the sentry admitted from behind him.

"Stand down!" cried another voice. "The monsters at our gates kill enough without us adding to the tally!" declared a bold voice, though clearly feminine. The militia immediately dispersed, forming two rough lines as if an honor guard for the woman marching towards Valentyn now. A woman with snow white wings.

The planeswalker felt his eyebrows rise up. An angel? Here? So this plane wasn't a blighted death realm after all? Well that was…good to see actually. As was the angel. She was definitively pretty, with soft features and pale skin; with the armour she wore giving her an edge of danger. Valentyn felt a smile form on his lips as he respectfully bowed his head. Though unlike the legendary angels of his home plane, the woman (could he still refer to her as such? His tutor hadn't dwelled on the particulars that much when talking about the beings…) was still a vessel for divine power of some sort.

So basically off-limits. A pity. He hadn't had much pleasurable company in a long time and he had never bedded an angel but – alright, she was standing in front of him now, those thoughts could be dealt with later! He straightened up, wiping his face clear of emotions. He was a guest here, and she visibly commanded some sort of respect. Especially the way the villagers tried to act like trained soldiers in her presence. Heh. Nice try lads and ladies.

"Welcome to Hamelin stranger," the angel said in greeting, her arms by her sides. Valentyn couldn't help but notice that her hands were very close to the hilts of the twin swords scabbarded at her hips. Subtle. He nodded in response before speaking.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he stated. "Forgive me, but I have been on the road for days and would like some rest before…ah…anything else." He was going to say 'answering your questions' but had realized he had no idea if that was what the angle actually wanted. Maybe she wanted his help with something? Unlikely. Or maybe not. Urgh, his weariness was starting to catch up with him.

The white haired female nodded. "Acceptable. Come with me. We have a tavern that travelers often used," she said simply before turning away and heading deeper into the village.

Valentyn blinked before following. Well, that was…abrupt.

* * *

The tavern was a quaint little thing, very rustic and reminded Valentyn of the buildings back in Vlastimir. Thatched roof, two storeys…simple design really. He'd thrown a gold piece at the barman upon his entry with the angel, though the man had insisted that it was unnecessary. Valentyn had none of that. He had not been accepted as a guest, but as a traveler. Besides, the tavern was a place of business, not a home, and so he couldn't just be a guest. Besides he was only receiving the offer because he entered in the company of the angel.

It was strange actually, for the angel to just be…walking around like this. The planeswalker had half expected her to go to the church or someplace set aside for her use in the village rather than accompany him. But when a warm stew had been laid out before him, Valentyn's wonderings were shelved in a deep corner of his mind as he indulged himself. It was a nearly tasteless stew made from potatoes and carrots, but it was warm food.

Throughout the meal, the angel just sat opposite him and studied him intently. Hmmm. Maybe she was actually just keeping an eye on him? That made a lot of sense actually. She probably could sense something of his nature. Still, even if she was dangerous, she was very pretty. Dark eyes set in a pale face made for quite the combination it turns out. Valentyn tried his best not to stare at her. Hmm, maybe he would manage to take some aspect of her with him when he 'walked on? If nothing else it would make a nice souvenir of this plane. He ate quickly and in silence, the angel studying him all the while. When he was done, he headed up for a bath. Fortunately, the angel didn't follow. Well, at least they trusted him enough to let him out of their sight for the time being.

The bath was little more than a wooden tub filled with steaming hot water. Still, a decadent luxury in a village such as this. They must have had quite the wealthy travellers passing through at some time. That certainly stoked Valentyn's curiosity. Still, once he was properly bathed he returned downstairs, knowing that the angel had business with him. Best get it out of the way first before settling to sleep.

The wooden stairs creaked under his feet as he descended to the main floor, where the angel was waiting at the table he had eaten at. She hadn't moved. The barman was idly polishing glasses, trying not to be obvious with his staring. Suppressing a yawn, the planeswalker moved to the table and sat down opposite the pale female. "So, what do you wish?" he asked without preamble.

Her dark eyes were fixed on his, her gaze unwavering as she spoke. "I require your assistance," she revealed bluntly.

Valentyn leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "With what?" Angels weren't predisposed to asking nicely from what he knew. They were the types to expect obedience and aid merely by existing. Something to do with being symbolic of the philosophy of White.

"You're a powerful mage. I can see it," the angel continued. Valentyn merely quirked an eyebrow and waved his hand for her to continue. "So I want your help in protecting this village."

A quiet fell on the table as the pair regarded each other. Moments passed until Valentyn shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the angel still staring at him intently. He realized she hadn't blinked yet. He couldn't remember seeing her blink at all since he met her. Funny how that unnerved him more than the wings on her back. The quiet began to turn awkward so he spoke. "And in return…?"

That seemed to surprise her, and she tilted her head, as if an owl. "Return?" she parroted.

"Yes, what do I get out of this? Fighting is dangerous, so the reward must be at least worth the risk," the planeswalker pointed out. From the corner of his eye he could see the barman frown. Well tough for him. No one did anything for free, and he wasn't a guest of the village, so he was under no obligation to protect them.

The angel's eyes narrowed to show her displeasure. "A good deed is its own reward."

"For you celestial types maybe," Valentyn shrugged. "The rest of us need to pay for things like wood and shelter," he explained, finger reaching out to tap the table to emphasize his point. The angel did not seem pleased by that at all.

"So you will leave this people to their fate?" she asked him, an edge in her voice.

Valentyn mused on the thought before smiling and pulling out a coin. "Well let's let fate decide then! Heads, I play protector. Tails, I go to bed and catch up on my sleep," he offered, flicking the coin into the air where it spun. Her eyes followed it up and down into his palm, before he slapped it onto the back of his other hand and revealed the result. Tails. "Oh dear, looks like you're out of luck. No charity from me today!" he cheerily declared, standing back up and finally letting out the yawn he had been fighting. "Now excuse me, but I have some sleep to catch up on," Valentyn added with a nod, heading for the stairs.

In truth, he wouldn't mind helping the little village. But fighting was dangerous. Especially when one didn't know what they would be fighting. If an angel said it needed help, the problem was probably greater than some shambling zombies or prowling werewolves. Which meant chances were good that Valentyn could get hurt. And he was not fond of being hurt. He was more the type to stand atop a mountain raining fire and thunder down on those who would seek to cause him harm, laughing all the while. Some of the time.

Entering his room, the planeswalker shrugged off his coat and draped it over a simple wooden chair, before dragging it over and barring the door with it. It would at least hold off any angry villagers long enough for him to wake up. He made sure to sleep as far from the window as well. Lying on the cot, Valentyn drifted off into a comfortable and safe sleep, alone but for the faces in his dreams.

* * *

The dreams were always the same. He could see Valnir riding tumbling from his horse, the beast studded with crossbow bolts. He could hear the beat of synchronized footfalls as the Legion marched towards them. He could smell the sweat and excrement of the people around him, quaking in fear as their army fled towards them, just ahead of the Luthens. He could taste the dust in the air as the few remaining cavalrymen reached them. He could feel the dread as the grand army of Vlastimir rode past their baggage train, broken and slaughtered.

So few had made it out of the battle. He swallowed before turning and running. He would not get far before the skies darkened and a rain of bolts fell upon them. They thudded into the ground, one piercing his leg. He cried and fell, smacking his head against a cart-

* * *

-Valentyn opened his eyes. His head was ringing as it had back then.

No. He couldn't feel ringing. He was hearing it. Valentyn blinked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness in his room and running a hand through his blond hair as he sat up. Urgh, he hated being woken up early.

The ringing continued. It was deep and steady, not like the ringing of the time.

Groaning, Valentyn dragged himself out of bed and over to the window, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Peering through the thin glass, he could make out villagers rushing through the streets, carrying torches and pitchforks. Huh. That reminded him of home somewhat, when the farmers had to resort to defending their homes themselves. Hopeless, but necessary. The planeswalker unlatched the window and actually opened it, leaning out for a better view.

The ringing was coming from the church, surprise surprise. The people where gathering in front of it into a steady mob, the angel floating in the air above them. She seemed to be giving out orders and directing the defence. The walls were manned by what appeared to be the actual militia, men in long coats and tricorners striding between archers and swordsmen, their yelling indistinct in the distance.

And then came the howling.

Loud and rolling, it swept over the village like a cloud. It was everywhere. It was wild. It was hungry. It was triumphant. The wolves had come for their prey, and their hunger would be sated this night.

Such arrogance irked Valentyn. Good people were going to die tonight. He should really pack up and move on, and be thankful he had managed to get any sleep at all. Then again, this would be a good test of his abilities. He strode over to the door and retrieved his coat, slipping it on and moving the chair aside. Maybe he should just take a walk, clear his head.

The man strode down the stairs and went to the door, stepping out onto the street before taking a deep breath of chilly night air. Huh. This place even smelt a little bit like one of the farmsteads back home. Urgh, he was getting sentimental again. That wouldn't do. He had to be cold, he had to be ruthless. That was what vengeance was about.

Putting his hands in his pockets, he headed towards the church, his mind already focusing on the landscapes he had witnessed in his short time on this plane. Images of mountains and forests flashed by his mind's eye as he remembered. He could hear the buzzing of insects in the woods as then and now began to blend together. He could feel the thin air of the mountaintops. Valentyn took a deep breath and opened his eyes, rooting himself in the now.

His tutor had warned him against being caught up in any one act. Always be vigilant, be ready to react to anything. The howling was growing closer to the village as he grew closer to the church. He could see the locals gripping their improvised weapons in fear, their eyes set with grim determination. Faint prayers could be heard from within the church itself, beseeching some greater power for aid. These people were weak, but they had a fire in their spirits. A fire not unlike that which kindled Vlastimiran hearts.

And would be crushed all the same. Though at least Vlastimirans were enslaved, and not…eaten.

Valentyn grimaced as he approached the poorly organised mob trying to sort itself out into something resembling a pike block. He cast them an idle glance before shouting up at their protector. "Hey! Angel! What's all this?" The man had to yell far louder than he was accustomed to, making sure his words were audible over the general clamour of people preparing to defend their homes and the howling of wolves.

The villagers hope looked down at him, her eyes narrowing as she descended to stand before the planeswalker. Still clad in her battle-plate, gleaming silver in the torchlight, Valentyn was once again struck by the sight. She truly did look like a hero of old. Pity no angels had come to save the kingdom when the Luthen Empire attacked. He cleared his throat as he spoke again. "Well?" he asked, waving his arm at the gathered villagers, grimacing at the noise surrounding them.

"The werewolves are coming," the angel stated simply. "We go to battle to protect those who cannot protect themselves," she added, nodding at the church.

Ah. Valentyn nodded. So the children and elderly had been gathered in one easily defensible location. Even though to him it seemed more like a loaded plate for the wolves outside than a bastion of safety for those inside. Still, he held his tongue to avoid earning the angel's ire.

"Where can you best operate?" she asked.

Valentyn blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Where should we place you for you to be most effective," the winged woman clarified. Oh great, she thought that just because danger was at their door he was going to fight? Not his circus, not his monkeys. He could just leave if he wanted to. The planeswalker could feel the energy he had called upon at his fingertips, awaiting his summons.

The coin was in the air.

"You think I'm just going to fight? For people I don't know – don't care about?" he asked her, his eyes narrowing in displeasure. "Why would I do that?"

That seemed to ruffle her feathers. A flash of annoyance passed her face, and he could tell that she wasn't sued to being so blatantly disrespected. Well…too bad for her. He had already been forced to bend knee in deference to one supposedly legendary creature, he wasn't going to repeat it unless she could make him. The pale woman closed her eyes and took a breath, her expression becoming serene. "Please."

The coin fell.

Valentyn grinned. Good enough for him.

* * *

He was never going to just abandon the people of Hamelin. It wasn't his way of doing things. Sure they weren't his hosts, but they were so alike to the villages of his home he couldn't help but feel kinship with them. Of course, he couldn't just volunteer to help either. They'd expect him to do things then. No, this was best.

Idly skipping up and down the walls of Hamelin, Valentyn hummed a folk song of Vlastimir to himself as he passed by nervous archers, some of them glancing at him in puzzlement. He paid them no mind. His mind was whirling through all his options at the time. Funny thing, planeswalkers – or so he had learned. Each one was quite unique. The only thing they shared was their ability to walk the planes. Apart from that, they had nothing in common. Some 'walked by meditating, others by actually walking and losing themselves in the act.

Some were mages, some were warriors. Some were saints, and some fiends. They were wonderfully diverse that way. It was quite infuriating though. Made planning anything quite stressful – after all, a scheme could easily be upset by a planeswalker suddenly arriving somewhere where they shouldn't be. Apparently that had happened a lot before, which was why his tutor approved of Valentyn's…chaotic approach.

The wolves were still howling, playing with the morale of the citizens. Men and women trembled at the hungry cries, but Valentyn just grimaced and hummed louder, ignoring the pathetic cries for attention. He was a mage, and all mages used mana. Some were lucky and could utilize the mana in the air or in their bodies, being able to cast a variety of spells in an instant. Valentyn was one of the unlucky ones who had far greater magical needs than others. Probably something to do with his lack of magical talent before his ascension to the ranks of the planeswalkers.

Not for him the ability to call upon lightning with a snap of his fingers, or fireballs with a flick of the wrist. No, his magic was slow. So slow. He had to call upon the mana of the plane itself, the magic inherent to the land. But there is always a balance. What he lacked in speed, he made up for in power. Valentyn could feel the trickle of energy running into him, slowly growing stronger and stronger as he made the connections between himself and the places he had visited. The places he had attuned himself to.

Mountains. Forests. Islands. Plains. Swamps.

A cry went up, swiftly drowned by a unified howl as the wolves charged. The blond grimaced as he turned his attention to the present. Powerful upine forms were bounding out of the treelines, spreading out in a wave. This was no pack. This was several packs coming together to bring down a great prey – the village. It was…impressive, in a way. How even werewolves would come together and seek aid against powerful foes. There was a lesson about unity there.

One that was of no use to him.

Unity had failed Vlastimir on the great plain. Unity hadn't been enough.

Power was all he had left.

Valentyn drew his sword, spinning it in his hand to reacquaint himself with its balance.

There were normal wolves running alongside their shifting brethren, acting much like bodyguards. They knew the werewolves were the only members of their pack capable of scaling the walls, scaling the walls and opening the gate. Valentyn wondered if the beasts below had enough wits about them to even recognise that as the tactic they should use, or whether they were too caught up in the hunt, the bloodlust, to care about anything else than killing.

The planeswalker sighed as the men around him loosed their arrows – the projectiles whistling through the air to fall upon the furry mass rapidly approaching them. A few wolves died, tumbling to the ground before being trampled by the rest. But whenever a few arrows pierced a werewolf, the creature would just howl in anger, or pain, and redouble it's pace. They were tougher than humans after all.

But how tough exactly?

Valentyn closed his eyes as he raised his sword, his mind focusing on the red mana coming to him from the mountains he had visited during his travels. He didn't know if all planeswalkers could attune themselves to landscapes, or if it was just him, but he could remember the peaks of Zendikar, and the power that they held. A power born of emotion. A power his tutor had labelled red mana. Fuel for his spells. He could feel the air crackling as probability shifted, and the clouds above rumbled as the plane replied to his call.

He smiled. Good to see the basics still worked. The blond opened his eyes and quickly scanned the beasts coming ever closer. They were almost at the wall now. Brown eyes narrowed as he spotted a good target – a brown furred werewolf tearing across the ground, its claws leaving behind deep furrows. Tiny red eyes, filled with malice, glared at the humans atop the wall as it leaped. Valentyn swung his blade down to point at the offending creature, and the heavens obeyed his unspoken command. A single lightning bolt flashed in the dark, striking the werewolf and killing it instantly.

It crashed into the soil at the foot of the wall, the thunder rolling out and briefly eclipsing the howling of the wolves. It wouldn't be enough, but he had a measure of the animals now.

And then they were at the wall and climbing. Dark hulking shapes, driving their claws into the cracks in the stonework and hauling themselves up at a frightening pace. Too swift, too quick. He hadn't established the connections yet. He lacked the power to call upon greater magic. He needed time. Time these poor souls would buy him with their deaths.

Valentyn turned and ran, reaching the stairs just as the first wolves crested the wall. There were screams. There were roars. Blades bit into pelts as claws rended skin. Valentyn felt nothing as the men behind him died in defense of their homes. They were always going to die. They were but a bump in the road to stall the wolves. Exactly what the angel was waiting for escaped him, but he knew she had a plan. Or something resembling a plan.

He hoped.

The bells of the church were still ringing wildly, but everyone had already either gone to the walls or assembled in the village square, leaving the streets empty. But soon enough they would be swarming with werewolves. Cries for aid and directions to hold the gate were audible in-between howls.

He could feel power still being drawn into himself. Not quick enough. But he had enough to speed up the process now. Closing his eyes, the planeswalker remembered the device his tutor had shown him. He extended his hand as a copy of it began to form in his hand. Bands of metal, with precious gems glowing faintly in the darkness set into them, began to appear. A simple artifact, and an invaluable one to someone like him.

A low growl nearby startled him as he finished conjuring the armillary sphere. Glancing over his shoulder, Valentyn felt himself pale at the sight of a werewolf. One that must have been part of a surge attack on the walls and broken through, running deeper into the village in search of someone to savage. And it had found him.

With a yelp, Valentyn increased his pace, the monster behind him dropping into a loping run on all limbs to chase. It was faster than him. But he only had to stay ahead of it for a few moments. Then he would be at the square and safe amongst the massed ranks of the militia. And then he could strike back. Alright, he had an armillary sphere. What connections did he need? He had so many mountains memorized those weren't a problem. He closed his eyes as he ran, knowing the square was close. He tried to ignore the sounds of claws digging into dirt as the werewolf behind him propelled itself faster and faster at his back.

What did he have that could help in this situation?! His mind ran through what he knew, what he could summon. Goblins weren't strong enough and he couldn't summon enough of them to challenge the pack tearing their way into Hamelin. That only left him with dragons, but those were notorious for causing a large amount of collateral damage.

Except…

"Aim!" cried the voice of the angel as he burst into the square, feeling the hot panting of the werewolf right on the back of his neck. Valentyn's eyes snapped open as he took in the mass of men and women with bows, arrows notched and ready to fly. Swearing loudly he dropped to the ground as the angel yelled another command. "Fire!"

Arrows whistled over his head, thudding into the werewolf and stopping it in its tracks. The beast gurgled before slumping to the floor, dead. Still trying to catch his breath, Valentyn staggered to his feet, the armillary sphere in his hand dissolving into nothingness, its use fulfilled. He staggered over to the ranked up militia block, visibly nervous at the sounds of carnage growing ever closer.

The angle stayed in the air, her wings lazily flapping to keep her there as she looked down at him. She said nothing, but he knew she would be judging him. Judging him for not staying and fighting like the others. For not dying to protect some small settlement he didn't care about. Well, there were better men than him out there. Pity for her she had to make do with him. Ungrateful wench.

Valentyn took a deep breath to finally slow his hammering heart, and focused on the people gathered in the square. They were resolute. Afraid, but willing to do what they had to to protect their loved ones. They were shining beacons of hope in the night, just like the angel herself. The planeswalker grinned as he turned to face the incoming beasts, seeing their dark shapes swarming over the wall and tearing apart the last few humans stationed there.

Time to remind the animals exactly where their place in the food chain was.

He gripped his sword in both hands and envisioned the grand mountains of Zendikar, the sweeping plains of this plane, and the forests of Dominara. He felt the mana pouring into him now, the connections stable. He drove that power into his blade, channeling it, shaping it into what he wanted. He couldn't call upon true aid. He did not have the knowledge necessary for that. But he knew how to create aid. Pale imitations and shadows of their true selves, but his summons could fight and kill nonetheless.

A beam of light erupted from his sword, stabbing into the sky itself before fading.

The people around him stared in shock, and even the werewolves seemed taken aback. Only the angel paid his little show of light no mind, sword in hand as she swooped down into the tide of fur and claw. "For Avacyn!" she cried, blade slicing through the air, decapitating the closest werewolf. The militia roared in answer and charged, sweeping around Valentyn. Brave. Tactically stupid, but brave. The planeswalker merely stood where he was, sword in hand, and waited. It always took a while, for his summons to fully orientate themselves.

So he just stood and watched as humans and werewolves tore each other apart in a frenzied melee. Pitchforks stabbed and poked, swords slashed and sang. Teeth ripped and gouged, whilst claws raked and tore. Blood flowed freely in the square of Hamelin.

New howls joined the chorus, more packs beginning ton converge on the heart of the village. Valentyn could already see another group of werewolves bounding towards him from a side street. They were too late.

"Oros. Kill them. Then avenge the rest," the blond planeswalker ordered simply. The werewolves drew closer and closer, men screaming in pain and fear as they were ripped apart by primal ferocity. And then the sky lit up with white flames. Valentyn grinned as the stream of fire swept the square, setting fur and fat alight. Wolves howled, but no longer in victory. Now they howled in pain as they burned. The fire passed over the melee, incinerating the werewolves feasting on the fallen.

People's cries were silenced as the flames reached them, passed over them, and left them unharmed. Valentyn nodded to himself. Even his cheap copy of Oros, the Avenger would never harm anyone attuned to white mana. The legendary dragon beat his wings as he flew overhead, his fire a continuous stream of punishment that engulfed the village. But the faith of the locals kept it safe. Their prayers and hope had made the village of Hamelin practically thrum with white mana. It was a place of safety, of peace, to so many that they had made it a font of power.

Power he was tapping into to maintain Oros. The fire stopped as Oros roared, circling around for another pass. This was power. This was what Valentyn respected more than anything. Such pure power. The ability to destroy at a mere whim. This is what he needed to save his home. The dragon breathed white flame again, and more werewolves died. By morning, even their bones would have been reduced to ash.

* * *

"Too many died," the angel said, as if blaming him.

Valentyn snorted at her and shook his head. Well, there's gratitude for you. "You wanted my help. You received it," he stated simply. She should have been thankful he had managed to recall the formula for the Oros summoning, rather than for something like Malfegor. There would have been nothing left if he had called upon that monstrosity.

"I believed you capable of protecting those on the wall," she argued. "Instead you left them to die!"

"My spells take time," Valentyn countered, eyes narrowing in displeasure. "You wanted my help, so I gave it. I wiped out the werewolves. You should be problem free until another pack moves in. That should take what, a year? You have a year of peace to enjoy."

The angel was not convinced. "If wives and sons weep after a victory, it was no victory," she stated with utter conviction.

The planeswalker rolled his eyes. How noble. Sadly, you never could save everyone. That was just the way reality worked. Sure, those who were of white mana found that unacceptable, but too bad for them. He could have stayed on the wall, sure. He could have cast his lightning bolts, and shocked a few wolves trying to climb the walls, but he would have eventually been killed alongside the others. And dying was something he had no intention of doing, for anyone or anything. The happiness of the people of Hamelin was not worth the risk to his life. Yes. Leaving the defenders of the walls behind when he retreated had been the right move. They had delayed the werewolves admirably, buying him enough time to summon a dragon. Once a dragon is in play, things started to swing in one's favour.

The angel looked at him coldly as she spoke again. "At least your dragon didn't destroy the entire village," she conceded reluctantly. "But there are still many repairs to be made to the walls."

"Quite. Good luck with that," Valentyn shrugged, looking around the square. The villagers were busy gathering all the ashes and piling them up onto carts to be taken out to the fields later. Others were collecting body parts and corpses and sorting them into rows for identification and preparation for burial. The typical aftermath of a battle.

"You won't help?" the pale woman asked, eyes narrowing again in displeasure.

"No. I came here for some rest, got it, so I'm moving on," he casually replied, nodding his head in the direction of the ruined gatehouse. Besides, he had better things to do than help some small insignificant village rebuild. Like liberating a nation.

"I…see." They stood there in silence for a few moments before she spoke again. "Would you please help them?"

The planeswalker laughed. "That only works once!" he said, shaking his head. "Still, I'll drop by if I'm ever passing through. If you still need help then…well, I'll help," the young man said, making a mental note to never pass this way again if he could help it. Still…he could at least give her a reason. "I have duties to attned to," he added as an explanation.

That seemed to register with the angel, and she nodded. "I understand. In which case, may Avacyn guide your steps," she said, as if blessing him.

Valentyn nodded his thanks before turning his back on her and the square, heading for the gate. Then he stopped, remembering something.

"Hey! Do you know if there are any dragons around here?"


End file.
